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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994556">Greyscale</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderTheMeltyWay/pseuds/UnderTheMeltyWay'>UnderTheMeltyWay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Powerpuff Girls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adults, F/M, Light Angst, My First Work in This Fandom, Slow Build, Slow Romance, lot of dialogue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:54:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderTheMeltyWay/pseuds/UnderTheMeltyWay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 10 years since they lit up the skies with their supernatural-charged brawls. Neither one had expected to have blended into the monotony of civilian life as they journeyed into adulthood. It was by chance they would find each other again.</p><p>Greens AdultAU</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Butch &amp; Buttercup Utonium, Butch/Buttercup Utonium</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Greyscale</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first story in a decade, so I think I did pretty well for my first time! I wanted to explore the Greens as they approach their 30s and how they developed into the adults by the experiences of living by the standards set for non supers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was moments like these that reminded Butch how stale his life had become. Despite being surrounded by the merriment of convivial people, he had found himself watching them as if he were in a dark theater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The realization that he wasn’t eager to participate in the world around him had crept on slowly. From fighting superheroes to being a soldier at war to sitting behind a desk Butch had live, lost and learned. It was rare to find excitement now. Even the comfort of relaxing alone felt like he was just trying to burn the days away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if he even cared that life was passing him by. The mortal limitations shackling the rest of humanity shouldn’t apply to superhumans like himself. In fact, he was pretty adamant that he’ll still be in peak physical condition when his colleagues were resting in their graves.  As morbid as that notion was, it was as true as knowing that they lived in a heliocentric world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So why does it feel like he was standing in his own grave waiting to perish with the rest of them? At what point did he start pretending that he was like the rest of them? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch sighed as he tried to clear his mind. Everyone seemed to have fallen spell bound to the jazz band playing brazenly at the other side of the hall; everyone except for him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to enjoy himself as best he could. Occasionally he’d swore to himself that when this is over he will vet future invitations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Mike said they were going to a party, Butch was ready for the sort of debauchery one may expected of a Friday night. The work hours have been long and he needed a break- badly, so the invitation was accepted without qualm. Which is why he was standing alone against the back wall of the Citiesville’s Police and Fire Charity Ball in his formal marine uniform.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike Believe had been invited as a representative for a non-profit and needed a date. Normally, these occasions call for a spouse or good friend to stand in. In this case, Mike decided to unanimously bring Butch to be his arm candy. Butch was a bit (see. very) resistant to showing up at a formal occasion once he found out that night on the town meant dressing with his collar button all the way up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch felt like he was bamboozled by one of his only friends when he opened had his front door hours earlier. His date showed up an hour earlier than expected, looking very snazzy in black and white tie.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is not how I want to spend my free night Mike.” he groaned at his smartly dressed friend who smiled back cheekly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You said you’d go though. As I recall, you’re not one to back down from a good time.” Walking into the small apartment, Mike sat down on the sofa and made himself at home. “Besides, you have time to get ready.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shutting his door, Butch sighed loudly enough for his friend to hear. “I don’t even have a suit for this.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But you have that formal uniform right? You never get into anyways so it’s gotta be good enough without a fresh press if that’s what you’re worried about.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not really interested in being paraded around like a float.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But you’d be the prettiest float in the parade.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ugh. And I don’t want people to come up and tell me ”Thank you for your service”.  It’s annoying when they are only doing it because of some ritual rather than sincerity.”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, but it’s just a small gesture. Plus, more than a quarter would be policemen and probably like what, half? Half of them would be vets themselves. The conversations would probably be more interesting then you’re giving them credit for.” Hearing no retort, he continued. “It’s not that bad. You’ll get free food and some fancy drinks.”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Butch weighed his options as Mike grabbed the remote to change the channel on his curve tv. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think it’ll be a pretty decent time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are work events ever better than a decent time?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The stocky friend shot Butch another cheeky grin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It won’t be that bad. Plus, you said you wanted to get out. Being cooped up in your apartment all night every night can’t be healthy for a growing boy like you.” Butch didn’t respond as he reflected on what Mike had to say. He would be lying to both of them if he said he had something better he would rather do because he had nothing better to do. If he wasn’t going to go out, he’d probably just be lounging around in his underwear scrolling through streaming sites till he passed out.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you say Cinderella?” Mike asked. “Will you come with me to the ball?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you saying I’ll be home by 12?”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And you won’t even lose a glass slipper.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch had conceded to his friend. There were a few valid points he couldn’t ignore. The glaring one being that he had been needing to get out of his apartment. He hadn’t really hung out with anyone except Mike and his brothers since moving back a few weeks ago. Work had been keeping him chained to his desk since it was a new company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mundane routine was starting to weight him down and it didn’t help that the weather lately had been gloomy. It’s as if the dreary clouds were draining all the color life had to offer as it loomed over the city. He never thought that seasonal depression would have been a factor in his life as he grew older.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ball wasn’t half as bad as he anticipated. The vets he had chatted with earlier had kept the night entertaining enough that he didn’t want to fly away with his plate of apps. Since they were all a bit older, most of the conversation were reminiscing their squads in the early 2000s just after the fall of the Twin Towers. Butch didn’t prod anymore then he felt like was appropriate. While they were brothers in arms, they were still strangers to say the least. Soon after, Butch was left alone again and made his way to the back of the line of the lavish spread. The line wasn’t particularly long since most people already had their first serving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Butch! Guess who I just ran into?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>----------------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She woke up face down in between her sofa cushions; bleak light illuminated through the gaps of her window curtains. Her neck was stiff from the awkward position she had laid in for the past couple of hours. Slowly, she pressed her hands down and raised her body off to sit up. Biting back a low groan, she tried to massage her traps and rolled her head from side to side.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup didn’t even make it past her living room before collapsing on her sofa when she returned from her stake out at dawn. Last night would have marked the 2nd all nighter she had put herself through for her line of work this week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she had decided to join the police force, she didn’t expect the exceedingly long hours to be mostly stagnant. Buttercup had the impression that her life might have been a toned down version of Criminal Minds and Law &amp; Order. Even if it wasn’t as exciting as television, she was going to impact people’s lives for the better just as she had when she was a Powerpuff Girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until she worked alongside the policemen that she realized how lenient the Townsville’s government had been. Her and her sister ruled the skies like Valkyries. Slaying anyone or thing that threatened their hometown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though, it was probably due to the fact that there was no one else capable of defending them. The girls were fighting monsters after all and not humans that went down the dark path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could have left a few months into the workforce. With her abilities she could just keep fighting monsters for hire.  However, the amount of monster attacks had slowed by the time she finished middle school. Either they had lost interest or the tales of 3 superhumans protecting the city across the bay had frightened them enough to stay on Monster Isle. The answer was a mystery and for the sake of the civilians that was enough for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like those monsters Buttercup adapted to the next phase of her life. It was discouraging at first, but she didn’t want to admit defeat that easily. She would remind herself that her rewards would be the positive impact in her local community. That maybe her ability to capture criminals would increase once she got promoted to detective...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stretching her body, she stood up to bend over and let her hamstrings stretch as she let her upper body dangle. The ravenette did not do herself any favors by sleeping on the sofa; her body felt like crumpled paper. She checked the time on her wrist watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>04:06pm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup had just a few hours to lazily get ready for tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dragging her body to the kitchen, she pulled out a white Styrofoam box and popped it in the microwave. She yawned loudly as the timer went off and grabbed a bottom of green El Yucateco from the pantry. Settling on her barstool with her piping hot 2-day old quesadilla, she splattered some of the hot sauce before taking a bite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hot cheese made her nose wrinkle as it scorched her tongue, but it did wonders with waking her up. Chewing quickly, she pulled out her phone and checked her messages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>|Captain: I expect to see you all there tonight.| </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was sent out as a mass text for her and the other detectives that weren’t on duty tonight. As if she needed another reminder to an event she didn’t want to go to. Shoving the last bit of quesadilla into her mouth, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand, burped then headed to the bathroom. Once the light flickered on she grimaced at her reflection. The bags under her eyes were prominent and there was an imprint from the sofa on her right cheek.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I am going to need a lot of concealer.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A short while later, Buttercup arrived at the ball in a black cocktail dress with a small black crossbody purse. The chatter of various clichés went in one ear and out the other as she made her way through the throng. Clutching a paper invitation, she followed the instructions of her placard to one of the many round tables that lined the outside of the room. Sitting alone, she looked at the coats that hung on the chairs and the partially eaten plates around her. There was only one other seat that remained untouched. Suddenly, she felt a cold tap against her bare shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone cleaned up well.” Irene teased as she handed Buttercup a flute of champagne before taking the seat next to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, I love it whenever I wear a dress it’s a big fuss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just trying to give you a compliment.” Buttercup knew that was a half truth. “We were out pretty late last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a bullshit compliment if you asked me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask, but thanks for the review.” Buttercup tried to hide her smile under her scowl at Irene’s playful tone. Her partner was as cheeky as they come, but she rarely rubbed her the wrong way.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look nice too by the way.” She said looking over Irene’s dark plum maxi gown. “Where’s the Captain?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s late. Didn’t give me a reason why. I just know that he is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup scowled for real this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have slept for longer then if I knew he wasn’t going to show up on time. It’s already 8:30.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least it looks good on us. We’re on time.” Irene said right before Buttercup’s stomach made its presence known. “Have you eaten yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I planned on shoving my face full of the free food here.” The jade green superhuman said. “I’ll be back unless you wanna come with?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irene waved her off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask me again when you’re ready to smash that dessert table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup made her way to the long table that stretched from one end of the reception hall to another. The aroma of hot food from local vendors wafted through the air, making her salivate instantly. The caterers were serving dishes to the attendees on large white plates as the jazz band played loudly in the background. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jazz, the only genre that seems to frequent themselves in dim lit clubs and charity functions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finding the end of the starting line, Buttercup slowed her steps as she saw someone very familiar at the end of the line. At a glance, nothing stood out about this person. His hairstyle was a bit more fashion forward whereas the other military guests opted for the traditional buzz cut. The stoic expression seemed out of place against the backdrop of comradery. And then there was that familiar feeling that she had met him before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she was just tired and imagining things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Butters!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She visibly winced at the nickname as the cheery voice got closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Mike. Surprised to see you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My company sent me out to represent us. I won’t lie when I said I’d volunteer though.” He winked at her while tipping his near empty glass in her direction. “I’m a sucker for a fancy feast.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, Buttercup could imagine a cat tail flicking behind him with pride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have known you were going to be here though. I mean, I didn’t think you’d show up, but I assume that you were at least invited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My captain made it mandatory for anyone who didn’t have a shift tonight. I guess it helps him make the precinct look good if most of us were here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you obliged?” He asked incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like my captain, he’s a good guy.” Her stomach rumbled again. “Did you come alone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. My hot date is here somewhere.” Mike scanned the room quickly and wrapped one of his arms around her bare shoulders. “Let’s go find him. You’re hungry right? Looks like he’s in line too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She allowed Mike to lead her forward to the mysterious, but familiar stranger she had laid her eyes on. He still hadn’t noticed them making their way toward them till Mike shouted nearly into her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Butch! Guess who I just ran into?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--------------------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his head and saw his stocky friend push forward a pretty woman in his direction. Her face darkened a bit when they made eye contact. Mike missed the stare that the two greens exchanged as he let go of Buttercup’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buttercup is here. Can you believe it? Kind of like a mini high school reunion.” A corner of Butch’s lips curled up to a smile as he coolly responded. The night seemed to have gotten a touch more interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, didn’t think I’d expect to see a Puff here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likewise.” She didn’t break the stare until her stomach let out another blatant rumble from the depths of her body. Blushing at the betrayal she broke eye contact first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Butters here is just hungry.” Mike went on and patted her shoulders, blind to the smoldering annoyance at being called ‘Butters’ in public. “No need to be embarrassed, that’s just nature’s alarm saying you’re hungry and ready to grub.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no need to be embarrassed.” Butch joined in, openly teasing her. “We’re all just waiting for food here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not embarrassed.” she snapped at both of them. “I’m just tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The former supervillain felt a twang of nostalgia tug at him at the sound of her throaty voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well do you know what always wakes me up?” Mike said swirling the ice in his empty glass. “An old fashion. Who wants one?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch raised his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take a gin and tonic.” As soon as Mike heard her order, he sauntered off to collect their beverages. Buttercup crossed her arms at her chest. “Alright, what are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t Mike tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He told me he had a hot date.” She gave him a look over. “Obviously his idea of hot does not reflect society’s standard of beauty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oooh, ouch. Sick burn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grimaced as he feigned being offended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re just here to be charitable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to help myself to the free spread.” He patted his belly. “Nothing tastes better than free.  What about you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My captain made me.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch snorted. “Now look who’s lying. As if </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>could ever force you to do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t really defy orders from my captain.” She retorted as she grabbed a large white plate from the plate warmer. “You should know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>marine </span>
  </em>
  <span>guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair, we’re not encouraged to ignore an order from our direct command.” Silence dropped between them as they each asked for portions of the spread from the specific servers on the other side of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soo...” He broke the silence first as they reached the end of their table. “Detective huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boomer told you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not much. Just said something about your celebration party.” She remembered he was invited by Bubbles to their childhood home for a small celebration. “Congratulations by the way.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was hesitant to accept congratulations from her former nemesis. Sure, they haven’t spoken in almost a decade, but it seemed strange to hear how sincere he was. It was also </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>strange that they weren’t at each other’s throats yet. There were rarely moments in their adolescent years where they couldn’t stand in the same room without throwing punches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those were fond times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same should be said to you, right?” The jade-eyed super said while looking at her mash potatoes. She resisted the urge to dip a slender finger in to scoop into her mouth. “Looks like the marines took care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As well as anyone could be I guess. I got out a while ago.” He snuck a glance at her as she pulled held her plate out for a slice of prime rib. “The uniform is just an outfit. Mike kind of dragged me here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be his trophy wife or something right?” Butch saw that a small smile crept on her face, obviously proud at that little jab. The upward curve of her lips enticed him to continue their friendly banter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured dramatically. “You wound me.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just never pegged you as a trophy wife.” Buttercup tried to fight the smile creeping onto her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You don’t think my ass is enticing enough to get pegged?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not answering that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but you just did.” Catching herself in a fluster, she was about to retort when their merry mate returned with their drinks. Buttercup saw her way out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to get back to my table.” She grabbed the drink from a protesting Mike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I just got back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Buttercup said the next round is on her.” Butch smirked. She would have thrown him a glare if she wasn’t already retreating back to her table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Mike waited till Buttercup was far enough to where she wouldn’t be able to pick up what he said with her super hearing. “Seems like you guys had a good conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? And why is that?” Butch asked as he took a sip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I recall correctly, and I usually do. Because I have an </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing </span>
  </em>
  <span>memory.” The stocky brunette emphasizes. “You two would have already been at each other’s necks by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We weren’t enemies since we were kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>enemies </span>
  </em>
  <span>during our 11th grade field trip when you guys both duked it out at the national forest. Or that time she tried to give you a </span>
  <em>
    <span>literal </span>
  </em>
  <span>atomic wedgie.” They walked over to their table where Mike’s name cards sat at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oh yeah. I almost forgot about that. Probably deserved it too.’ Butch mused, thinking back to their bickering days. Memories of the sky flashing in vibrant shades of green send a slight shiver down his spine. Nothing could ever compare to the intensity that flickered like wild fire in her eyes.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch cleared his throat.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then wouldn’t that make you the least brightest guy in the room, throwing two hot-headed supers together.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike had the biggest shit eating grin on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure Buttercup wasn’t going to beat the crap out of you at a work function </span>
  <em>
    <span>Butchy-boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what made you think I wasn't gonna be the one throwing the first punch?” he asked, not sure whether he was more irked by the condescending nickname or the implication that he was the weaker of the two. Mike patted his shoulder patronizingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might have been a Rowdyruff in the hay day, but now you’re just another white collar bloke like the rest of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span> ---------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in a pretty good mood.” Irene said as Buttercup ripped the meat off the chicken leg with her teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just seem more...energetic.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup felt what Irene was inferring contradicted how she was feeling. She was still tired and hungry; well, less hungry now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ok, maybe she wasn't as tired either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet it was because of that tall drink of water over there.” Irene pointed brazenly toward Butch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop pointing!” Buttercup pushed her finger down with the bare chicken bone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross. But I won’t be deterred!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing that ignoring her partner’s inquisition would only incite grander gestures from her, Buttercup caved.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I ran into some guys from high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irene grinned slyly. “Ohhh? Old boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup snorted. “Definitely, not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you seem two seemed pretty close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We sorta...grew up together.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the polite way of saying he was created to destroy her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, really that’s it?” Irene looked disappointed. “Well, I could definitely see you giving him an atomic wedgie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup stifled a chuckle. It just so happened that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>give Butch an atomic wedgie. Retribution in fact for swirling Mike’s head in a toilet. He must have had a cotton and steel blend that day because his underwear didn’t tear. And she did </span>
  <b>not </b>
  <span>hold back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a delightful time.  As much as he annoyed her to the heavens she never needed to hold back her strength with him. One or several atomic wedgies wouldn’t have been able to castrate him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may have.” Buttercup said smugly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you lucky girl. I saw him from behind and let me tell you my score.” Irene said rather loudly while raising her large hands. ”10/10.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough about his ass already.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about my ass?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup scowled at his shadow creeping upon them and glanced behind her. “Talk about ego.” She did not appreciate being snuck up upon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing egotistical about enjoying the compliments.” He quipped and then turned to the detective next to her. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement at the exchange. “Sorry for being so rude. I’m Butch by the way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The rudeness is all Buttercup for not introducing us.” She flirted. “I’m Irene, we work together.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but it’s her turn to get the next round.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t let me stop you two, I probably should go check on the captain anyways.” Irene flashed both of them an award winning smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘There is a lot of smiling being thrown here.’ Buttercup thought to herself, finding the warmth from both of them to be a bit stuffy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come along.” Butch tried to grab her hand to lead her back to one of the bars, but she pulled it away before treading ahead through the crowd. Reaching the counter, she noted how it was one of the least crowded bars in the reception hall. Another thing she noted was that-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Mike?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just us two babe.” He raised one hand up to defend himself from her accusatory look. “Don’t worry, he's not dead if that’s what you think. He’s networking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t we wait for him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, he leaned in close to her face. “I’m thirsty.” Feeling her skin tingle at his heated look, she looked away to the bartender. His laughter irked her. “Gods, I don’t remember it being this easy. Someone’s gotten soft over the years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup pouted. “I’m not soft.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no, just grown up right?” Before she got to retort, the bartender walked towards them after serving another pair in black tie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will it be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take a jack and coke and she’ll have a gin and tonic.” She pursed her lips as he attempted to take the lead again. “You can put it on m-.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she bumped him to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put it on </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>tab.” Buttercup intervened with an enigmatic smile. “Last name: Utonium.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch looked at her, amused, as she pretended she didn’t swoop in and steal the bill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither one of them said another word as the speeches started to commence in the background. Buttercup turned around to face the stage, pretending to focus on the current speaker. When she felt it was safe to do so, she let her eyes wander over to the superhuman.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mess dress fitted him well; his broad shoulders were emphasized and gave the impression that he might have grown a few inches. His jaw seemed more square, not angular like Boomer or Brick’s. There was hypertrophic scar that ran along the lower half of his left cheek. A scar like that typically meant that the attack was close range, but being that he was superhuman he shouldn’t have been marred.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she’ll ask him about it next time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheers.” He raised his glass up to her as they were served. She met his glass with a clank and took a sip. “You know, it suits you.” Butch said while still looking straight into the bar.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your job.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving him a suspicious side eye, she took a sip from her glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this another one of your backhanded compliments?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chill out Butters.” Butch shifted his brilliant emerald orbs towards her while taking a small sip. “I’m just saying solving crime and putting the bad guys away. That’s what being a PowerPuff Girl was all about right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, solving crime.” she scoffed bitterly before taking another sip. Swishing the lightly sweetened gin in her mouth before swallowing. “It’s not much solving and just a fuck ton of late nights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not the shining pride of your precinct?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t respond as she thought back to the last few months. While there were quite a few police-led operations hidden in the underworld, the gratification of wrapping up cases was far and few.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being a cop was usually unsatisfying and the people she interacted with were more than ungrateful. She thought things would have changed once she was promoted; and things did, but not in the way she had hoped. Instead of pulling people over, she was interviewing a lot of low level dealers or associates.  Usually neither groups had any promising information. The nights stretched on as the workload increased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To top it off, Buttercup had lost a few colleagues in her short career. Sometimes it was just an accident and other times it was a deliberate attack. It just takes one bullet to nick them in the right place and they could bleed out in minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead, just like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlike being a superhero, I can’t break the rules to justify the means.” He saw her square shoulders sag a bit. Butch pursed his lips as he imagined a small, dark cloud appearing over her. There was no need to read her mind; not that he could, he didn’t have that ability. Any person could see that she needed a hug or a few comforting words to bring her out of her mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you want to know what my backhand compliment was going to be?” Chuckling a bit as she faced him. “I was going to say that a hot head like you needs an outlet so I’m not surprised that roughing up some slumlord would’ve been your calling.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it goes again, that sense of fuzzy familiarity that comforted her. Butch wasn’t known to be someone who consoled with sweet words or a warm embrace and she wasn’t the type that would have accepted that sort of pity. This rapport was what worked best for the both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackass.” She muttered, her dusky colored lips curving upwards again. “It can be pretty satisfying though...when I can get my hands on one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean- it wasn’t as satisfying as trying to fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>up when we were kids.” Looking coyly at her glass, her jade eyes twinkled. “You could really take a beating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you mean.” He turned his body towards her, leaning most of his weight on his right arm while holding his whisky glass in his right. “Those Somali pirates weren’t that fun to go after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because your powers made it too easy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch paused as if he were in deep though before admitting. “Actually I never used my powers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She couldn’t hide the shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I can’t get hurt from bombs or bullets. And I can fly. I’m basically my own plane. I could kamikaze their asses 50 times without breaking a sweat...but that doesn’t seem fair.  To be honest it seems pretty cruel to take advantage of them like that.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” She didn’t expect this at all. “Still, your job was probably more satisfying than all night stake outs in some old cop car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean...yes and no…I don’t know what you’ve read about them, but most of the pirates I’ve met were kids from poor families. The youngest I saw out there was like 11. I caught a leader of a crew once and he was 16. That’s fucked up.” The grimace marred the dashing marine’s face as he recalled his time in service. “After being out there in the territory for a while, I learned why they are pirating in the first place. They were just village kids hired by a local warlord. Steal this shit and he’ll give them an xbox or some other fucking thing. Can you imagine? Picking up an assault rifle and holding a cargo ship hostage all for an </span>
  <em>
    <span>xbox</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up.” She responded solemnly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup felt like she had been served a unexpected flavor of Butch. So far, she has been given plentiful helpings of the charming side; a rich and spicy scoop of sensual promises. If she misstepped he would be right there, ready to try to swoop her off her feet. And then there was the feisty teenager that peeked out when he tried to rile her up; a bold and tart sweetness that made her grin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this flavor? Merciful and virtuous Butch? Was this a new side or has he always kept this flavor underneath that tough guy exterior? He was offering her a sample free of charge. Now she had to decide if she enjoyed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup was seeing him differently for the first time as she questioned herself with ridiculous ice cream metaphors. At what point did Butch allow himself to open himself up to those experiences? She never saw past that harden charade they each kept up when they were kids. Maybe they kept their guard up because they didn’t know what evil really was till they grew up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was saying something because she had see Butch rip out the heart of a sea monster when they had a bet on who could defeat it the fastest. Seeing that triumphant smirk as he raised the massive organ above his head sent chills down her spine. There were so few people that existed that could rival her strength. Even now she remembered how indomitable he appeared while drenched in the blood of slain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was because </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>were the monsters.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Small beings with nearly limitless power taking on adversaries 100x time size. There was no way the creatures of Monster Isle didn’t see them that way. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t see Butch’s tender side all this time. While they stood on opposite sides, they were each other’s counterparts. It’s possible that hindered their ability to see past their excuses and into the reflection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch saw a million thoughts racing through Buttercup’s face as she kept quiet. The alcohol was probably influencing her to overthink the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyways, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That snapped her out of her trance. She looked at him sheepishly, realizing how long she was taking to mull this over. Well, she made her decision. Buttercup liked this new flavor. It was delicate, but complex; at least compared to what she thought of him before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t give yourself so much credit. You didn’t bring down anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some women actually find this attractive.” Realizing her misstep, she turned to face the other way to hide her redness and harrumphed loudly. “Not that I find a braggart like you attractive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” He had a shit eating grin. “You don’t find my adventures tantalizing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I look like I’d be won over so quickly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have expected that. A tough babe like you wouldn’t swoon so easily.” He chuckled. The mood lifted as he moved a few inches closer to her. “So what do you like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what? Food? Hobbies?” She deflected as he made contact, gently shaking her on the shoulder to get her to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t play coy with me, Buttercup.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She said nothing. Mostly because she knew if she gave him an inch that he would take a mile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Need a little liquid courage?” The former marine quickly beckoned the same bartender. “Two doubles of Fireball.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That caught her attention. “Gag.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t think I’d forget your favorite order from back in the day?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s kind of juvenile isn’t it? Taking shots </span>
  <em>
    <span>here </span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless you’re willing to admit you’re a bit too chicken-shit to down a measly double...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn him. He knew Buttercup couldn’t resist a challenge. Especially when he had that Cheshire grin taunting her ego. As if on instinct, her body moved on it’s own and snatched both glasses as soon as they touched the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasting no time she threw one of the glasses down the hatch as the bartender and Butch gawked. The cinnamon infused alcohol burned her throat and she fought hard to not let the disgust from the taste and falling prey to his trap show on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whistled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a bit behind there Butchy-boy.” She smirked, feeling smug over her piddling triumph as tapped the counter top right in front of Butch. “Two more here for this guy right here and this time you can put it on </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>tab.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cocky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to wait for me this time, hot shot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t be waiting if you weren’t so slow. Besides, you have to catch up first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the new glasses touched the counter top, Butch swiped one of them and shot it back.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a show off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had hoped he would have taken a moment longer so she could digest the burning sensation at the pit of her stomach. Buttercup should have known though he couldn’t resist a challenge either. He was her counterpart after all. At least there was only one double left for each of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now on thre-.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there you two are!” Mike sauntered over from wherever he came from. “What are you cheering to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To a good time.” Butch winked at her as she rolled her eyes. He handed his date the other glass. “You’re late by the way. We’re already a double each ahead of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brilliant glint evaporated from the brunette’s eyes instantly at the word ‘double.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not playing catch up tonight my dudes. I’m still working.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on come on.” Grabbing him by the shoulders, Butch held him close. “You can’t just ditch your date and then refuse to catch up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can if my date is a 190lbs superhuman who doesn’t need no man.” He quipped, taking a whiff of his drink. “Really? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fireball</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Aren’t we a bit classier than that now friends?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup snorted. “Stop stalling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok damn. I’ll do this one.” He said defensively. “But, then I’m tapping out fellas.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span> She grinned. “And that’s all we ask.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch ordered another double for himself. The bartender seemed to have hesitated, but poured him a glass anyways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“1-2-3.” And down the amber liquid went. Unable to hold back the burn, Mike coughed and covered his mouth. His face scrunched up as he tried to keep the tantalizing blaze from coating his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blergh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While the taste was less than pleasant, it brought back a flood of warm memories for Butch. Fireball would never not remind him of the house parties where he and other like minded reckless teenagers would knock back shots as if they were all invincible. Those nights then really felt like they would never end and that youth wasn’t fleeting.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it wasn’t too hard for Buttercup to keep a straight face either. After all she had to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>on </span>
  </em>
  <span>while on the job and her poker face was legendary. Showing weakness wasn’t an option in her line of duty. Plus, the Chemical X will sober her up soon enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You both are assholes, you know that?” Mike almost shouted; miffed that neither one of the supers were revolting. “Leave it to you two to start throwing down shots at a charity ball.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, I guess your date is just 170lbs of bitchass.” That earned Buttercup the bird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’m out.” He clapped twice and bowed. “And may I say- now that I have a double dose of liquid courage, that you look great tonight Buttercup.” He winked at her before navigating his way back to his abandoned plate of food at some distant table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch waited till their buzzed friend was out of earshot. “He’s right you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look really great tonight.” His heated emerald eyes sent tingles throughout her body. Feeling a tad more naked than before, she cursed herself for not bringing a jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Collecting her cool, Buttercup attempted to bat away the butterflies in her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was almost a compliment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cocked a brow. “What part of it wasn’t a compliment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just cause I'm in a dress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I didn’t say that dress does you a lot of favors.” Buttercup pretended that she couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or flattery warming her body. “But you’ve always been a pretty thing. Even when you tried to kill those few times.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here’s to hoping it was the alcohol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t need to kill you if you weren’t being such an asshole.” She mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thinking about my ass again? Don’t tell me that’s the only thing you think about.” He wiggled his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘How are we back at this?’ She thought to herself, slightly miffed at the constant reminder about his tight behind. Not that she needed a reminder, the woman wasn’t blind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like you want to strangle me right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That obvious?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch was drawn to the mirth that illuminated in her eyes. That look perpetually sent tingles on his skin. Usually this happened before the heat of their battle. It always started off small, like a campfire nestled in the depths of a massive forest.  If he was humble, the fire would nourish him with it’s warmth. It would bat away the darkness that hid in between the trees in the night and sing of promises to protect him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, if he were insolent it would roar to life and singe him without a second thought. It’s brilliant flames would lick his skin black to remind him that fire was a wild element. A natural force that wasn’t easily tamed by anyone. That could </span>
  <em>
    <span>easily </span>
  </em>
  <span>devour him when given the opportunity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that excited him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling a bit more daring now with 4 shots of Fireball coursing through his body, Butch couldn’t resist egging her on.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just too tempting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You itching for a good time babe?” He purred as he leaned in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strangely enough, she couldn’t smell any trace of the fireball on his breath. In fact, she caught notes of amyris lingering from him. It enticed her to let her guard down and welcome whatever mischief he had planned. After all, that’s what amyris typically promises isn’t it? To melt away the day’s stress. She felt her legs were inclined to deliquesce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup steeled herself. She will not just play damsel and be swooped off her feet that easily. This was Butch, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Butch! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Of course he would know how to push her buttons. He was just trying to knock her off her rhythm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, two can play that game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling slyly, Buttercup took a few steps toward him and leaned in. She was still a few inches shorter than him in heels, but her demanding aura made it seem they were on equal footing. Touching one of his shoulders, she pretended to dust something off before patting him patronizingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think our ideas of a good time are vastly different.” she said huskily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we’re both enjoying doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then they aren’t really that different.” Neither wanted to be the first that broke from the other’s smoldering gaze. Each refusing to bow down first.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch took this opportunity to study her face; she had matured a bit since he last saw her. The suppleness of her youth was slowly fading from her cheeks. Her eyes were slightly sunken from the late nights of fighting crime the regular way. Buttercup had been forthcoming about being tired that evening. Evidently, these were just the signs of living a normal life; restricted just like the rest of society.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, there were a few things he noticed that didn’t change like the dusty color of her lips and electrifying green eyes that sparkled. While the years haven’t been kind to most of them, he could say without a shred of doubt that she was still an alluring sight to behold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he should let her strangle him.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>----------------------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>From far away, she watched the two dark haired superhumans gaze intimately into each other’s eyes. They paid no attention to the thralls of party goers exchanging stories of bravado or promises of initiatives around them. And it seemed like no one else was paying any mind to the cozy couple at the bar. Though, it wasn’t as if this was a rare sight; singles tend to gravitate to one another in gatherings like these. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, it wasn’t exactly quotidian for Irene to find her friend so affectionate, or miffed if she asked Buttercup, with anyone. While she was absolutely curious she had avoided injecting between the two. It would be silly to ruin their natural progression.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, they were at a work affair and her captain had inquired where her partner was. Irene had prolonged her partner’s absence as long as she could to buy them some time. But, duty was calling.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buttercup!” Snapping them both out of their gaze, Buttercup saw Irene sashaying toward them. “Cap’n is looking for ya. I told him I’ll come grab you since he hasn’t seen you all night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh...right.” Pulling out her cellphone, she checked the time.  “Christ it’s already 11:49pm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think they are going to wrap up in another hour.” Irene shifted her amber eyes up toward the mysterious stranger. “It’ll just be for a few minutes, you know. Pleasantries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok,” Butch said. ” I should get going soon anyways.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A disappointment flickered through Buttercup’s jade green eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calling it early?” Irene pouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a long week and this party turned out way more entertaining than I expected.” Pulling out his phone, Butch smiled enigmatically and asked. “By the way Buttercup, can I have your number?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“234-456-9872.” Irene rattled off her partner’s personal number while ignoring the daggers being sent her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have said it.” Buttercup muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch saved her contact and extended a hand towards her. “It was nice seeing you again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at the hand he stuck out as if to figure out it’s underlying meaning. It hung in the air for a few seconds before she shook it. The formality seemed strange for the coquettish evening they shared, but Buttercup was grateful. She wasn’t someone who enjoyed displaying physical affection so soon.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he remember that about her too?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How considerate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get home safely.” She said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch turned to Irene and smiled coolly. “It was nice to meet you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charmed, I’m sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he was out of sight, Irene turned back to Buttercup who stood there slightly flushed.  There was no escaping her feelings now that Butch was gone; the void he left was apparent. She wishes she could blame the alcohol, but it was foolhardy to use that excuse since she had started sobering up 5 minutes ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The proof was in the pudding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a good time?” Irene smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>-------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What? It’s already 12?” Mike was still red from the double he was coerced to take. Age did not take any prisoners as evident in his stocky friend’s inability to bounce back like a bushy tail 21 year old. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah and Cinderella needs to go home.” Hoisting him up to his feet, Butch let Mike hold (see. cling) onto his shoulder as the room spun. “Get it together, it wasn’t even that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” Mike dropped his car keys into the super’s hand and asked. “Aye, you’re good right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” The alcohol had already been nullified by the Chemical X. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, cuz you’re driving. I can not right now my dude.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Mike a minute to find his valet ticket and another 10 for his car to pull up. Plopping himself in the back seat he immediately dozed off in an alcohol infused coma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head sympathetically, Butch pulled out of the parking lot onto the main street. It would take him about 30 minutes to drop his friend off and another 5 to just fly home. As he drove, he thought of the feisty ravenette and her dusky blush colored lips.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had grown up. Each going down a different path to assimilate into society just as they were expected to. He was sure many of his former classmates and former associates didn’t expect him and his brothers to have let go of their baseless acrimony against the Powerpuff Girls. Hell, even he was surprised by how his life had turned out so far.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch shifted his eyes at the rear view mirror to check on his sleeping friend before turning onto an off ramp. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You might have been a Rowdyruff in the hay day, but now you’re just another white collar bloke like the rest of us.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike’s words rang in his mind as he pulled into the driveway. He tucked his friend into bed before taking off into the night. The clouds hid the moon and stars from view, creating an eerie backdrop for his journey home. Butch thought flying back to his little abode would have cleared his mind, but the words echoed. While it was a friendly jab to his adaptation, there was something that was entirely too absolute about the claim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Absolute. Conventional. Expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch didn’t think supers like him applied to this equation. The statue of being normal felt rigid and confining. It seemed absurd before that he could fit into that standard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he did didn’t he? He had grown up like everyone else and had a job like everyone else. There was some truth in what Mike said, but he didn’t have to like it. And he didn’t want to accept that this was what the rest of his life was going to be like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this an existential crisis?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t feel his world distorting at the seams, but the dull itch that laid in the back of his mind began to burn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butch thought back to the security Mike displayed when he playfully took shots at the him. Maybe it’s that monotonous predictability that humanizes supers like him and Buttercup. That allows people like Mike and Irene to feel safe enough to joke and be around them. It’s what hides their abnormality and blends them in with everyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were young, they were buzzing with untethered power. They were almost gods; impervious, impenetrable, and invincible. The words ‘normal’ and ‘absolute’ didn’t apply to them. Their power was a splendor man could only wish. Their existence defies the laws of nature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And here he was with the rest of humanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A white collar bloke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling out his cell phone, Butch began to craft what he hopes would be a very enticing message.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>-------------------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>|Butch: Are still you up for a good time?|</span>
</p><p>
  <span>|Buttercup: What?|</span>
</p><p>
  <span>|Butch: I’m just asking if you’re ready to get your ass kicked?|</span>
</p><p>
  <span>|Buttercup:  Uhh, what the fuck is wrong with you?|</span>
</p><p>
  <span>|Butch: I just figured we both need some release. Sooo, I just want to let you know, my door is always open if you want to get your ass kicked.|</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup stared at her phone, taken back by his forwardness. It hadn’t even been an hour since he left and he was already trying to irk her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No ‘Hi Buttercup, this is Butch.’ or ‘Great seeing you tonight, Mike’s home safe.’ Nope. Just mischievous and direct. She knew he was just trying to rile her up.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Surely a man should know to wait 3 days before following up.’ The imaginary Irene chimed in her head as Buttercup looked up at the cloudy sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though that was Butch. Rarely would he be caught playing a game that didn’t involve using his fists. She felt like he always perused through life doing whatever the hell he wanted. It was one of the reasons why they always brawled because he could not keep his damn mouth shut. And right now he was trying to entrap her with his siren’s song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armed with this knowledge, she knew she didn’t have to fall for his ploy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, she did want to make </span>
  <b>one</b>
  <span> thing clear.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>------------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>|Buttercup:  Someone’s really begging for a beat down. Where’s this door so I can make you fucking eat it?|</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could not text her the coordinates fast enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup’s response invigorated him and he wanted to howl at the sky with triumph. He relished in the cool breeze whipping through the trees as he decided into the clearing inside a forest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t be long now.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, his ears perked up to the air whistling as </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>flew towards him at sound breaking speed. His eyes searched the sky till his dark emerald orbs clashed with her electric jade. She had stopped just above some pine trees on the other side of the clearing; peering down at him like a falcon eyeing it’s prey. As the ravenette floated down the vibrant green energy dissipated off her skin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grass rustled around them as another gust rippled through the forest. Butch felt his heart rate slowly increase and the sounds around them dimmed. Moonlight broke through the smoky clouds, illuminating their stage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just her and him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flexing his fingers, dark green energy burst from his fists like firecrackers. It weaved through the air till it formed two opaque disks; hovering above his knuckles. The edges of the small shields crackled as the air surged with electricity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His blood pulsed with elation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buttercup.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unperturbed by his flashy show of strength, Buttercup slipped into a fighting stance. Her eyes flared with unbridled desire.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Butch.” She said smugly before rushing at him in a flash of vibrant green. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Woof, you made it!  This turned out much longer then I had anticipated.  </p><p>The memories Butch shared about the Somali pirates is an actual conversation a co-worker shared.  I thought it would be an interesting corner stone to show Butch's emotionally mature side hidden under all the banter.</p><p>Originally I thought about making the ending with them kissing or him asking her out, but it just didn't feel right.  I'm pretty satisfied with this ending.</p><p>Was it too much banter? I thought I would struggle with the dialogue, but it turns out I struggled with making the scenes interesting lol. I hope I didn't lose some of you in the process.</p><p>Thanks for making it to the end.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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